Eight Years of Refusing to Play Nice
Superlevel ran on a philosophy you don’t see much in games media: stay weird, stay honest, don’t sell out, and if someone objects, well, fuck them. For eight and a half years—close enough to ten that the rounding up feels earned—it actually held to this. I only found out it was gone because I’ve spent the past few weeks living under a rock.
There are only a handful of blogs that have been around as long as this journal. Nerdcore, maybe. UARRR. Sara’s endlessly evolving soul project over at Finding Berlin. And Superlevel, where a writer named Fabu spent the better part of a decade trying—with a kind of magnificent, almost arrogant stubbornness—to stay relevant by being genuinely, defiantly different. Relentless rebellion and financial stability don’t pair well, as it turns out. They rarely do.
For most of its readers, Superlevel was a blog of subjective game writing, experimental podcasts, and nerdy mixtapes assembled with too much care for anyone’s commercial good. For me it was a more interesting thing than that: a case study in how far a philosophy of complete indifference to industry expectations could actually carry you. The answer: pretty far. Just not far enough.
In the end it came down to money. What seems to sort of work for independent media in the US—telling advertisers to go fuck themselves and betting instead that a small, devoted readership will sustain things via Patreon—turns out to be considerably harder to pull off in Central Europe. The alternative is what this journal does: spread your legs for the money. Cash over dignity. Not a flattering motto, but it keeps the lights on.
I want to say something to Fabu here, even if it’s too late. Thank you for trying. For planting Superlevel’s flag in the ground and refusing to move—against lifestyle bloggers shilling laundry detergent, against game magazines selling their review scores, against this site, which has been called the Hipster Bild, a comparison to Germany’s most notorious tabloid that stings partly because it isn’t entirely wrong.
No other German games outlet tried as many new ideas in as short a time. There was a new podcast seemingly every few weeks. The legendary Diablo 3 key generator prank reduced entire school classes across the country to actual tears—a cruel joke that was also somehow a piece of conceptual art. And the forum attached to the site became a genuine home for gamers who had nothing but contempt for the mainstream, and were better for it.
Right now I feel like one of those idiots who starts crying at the funeral but couldn’t find the time to say a kind word while the person was alive. Too busy. Took it all for granted. Had enough of my own problems. Now it’s too late. Now I’m the asshole.
Fabu has a real job now at a real company with a real budget. I genuinely hope he hates it within a few years. That the comfort becomes insufferable and the boredom becomes unbearable and he comes back, loaded with everything he’s learned, and starts something new that gets it all right—or at least makes the attempt, which might already be enough.
Until then: goodbye, Superlevel. Find your peace in the digital graveyard alongside Megazord, Panda Fuck, and Indigoidian. And anyone who only just realized there’s a world of game writing beyond GameStar and 4Players—go spend some sleepless nights reading every single thing Superlevel ever published before the servers finally go dark. It’s worth it. Take care. See you around. Maybe. Who knows.